A Short Story on the Website of
the Red Dirt Writers Society

by Harriet Morgan (Sep 2007)


Sitting ramrod straight across the table from him, her bright blue eyes shot icy arrows through him. “I’m trying to forgive you,” she stated flatly.

          Hanging his head, he mumbled, “You don’t have to. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.” As he spoke tears appeared in his red, bloodshot eyes, and a few began to run down his leathery cheeks. Years of heavy drinking had taken their toll on the man’s once rugged good looks.

          With more feeling, “Right now I think I hate you!” she spat, making a lie of his first impression of a dignified, upper middle-class matron.

          Looking straight into her angry eyes with a pathetic plea in his own, “I understand,” hanging his head again.

          “The Bible says we must love EVERYONE, but how can I LOVE YOU?” Then, lowering her voice as though talking to herself, “He was my only child. I raised him by myself since his father died when he as three. He was only 17!”

          Another, older, female voice caught their attention. “He’s my only child. I raised him by myself since his father left us when he was five.”

          Standing and holding his arms out for a hug, the prisoner choked out, “Hi, Mom.”

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Revised September 2007.